


Two Months

by ComplicatedLight



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Gen, Lewis is a BAMF, Poor James
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-08 07:41:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7749079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComplicatedLight/pseuds/ComplicatedLight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James is in a spot of bother and Lewis is not happy about it . . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Months

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Willowbrooke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willowbrooke/gifts).



> I seem to be very interested in James' early experiences of Lewis at the moment; the experiences that help shape his feelings for Lewis. I've already explored this theme once, in the drabble [Six Days](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6002010), and here we are again, with an alternative view, at Two Months.

He’s only worked with Lewis two months, and he’d have liked more. And he really doesn’t want his very last thought to be _Lewis will think I’m an idiot_. But it just hadn’t occurred to him that Professor Edwards, who they’d thought was a minor player in the case, would actually turn out to be the murderer. Let alone that he would see strangling a police officer as a solution to his current difficulties. The problem is, Edwards is built like a brick outhouse and James had been taken by surprise and—

“Get your hands off my sergeant, _right_ now.” 

Lewis is striding towards them, looking like he’s going to do some murdering of his own. Edwards takes one look at him and stumbles back a few steps, raising his hands, and James doesn’t blame him one bit—Lewis looks furiously angry; incandescent. Without Edwards' meaty hands round his throat, James collapses to his knees, trying to drag air into his poor, deprived lungs. He watches through watering eyes as Lewis shoves Edwards towards some railings and cuffs him.

__________________________________________________

After it’s all over, after backup has arrived, and Edwards has been taken away, and James is breathing relatively normally again, Lewis crowds him into a quiet corner.

“Let me see.”

“I’m fine, sir. Just a little sore.”

Lewis scowls. “I said, let me see, Sergeant.”

So James gingerly tilts his head back and then lets out a sort of strange, choked little gasp as Lewis starts to carefully trace the pad of his index finger across his throat, gently drawing a map of the bruises forming there. 

“Does it hurt?”

“Not much, sir.” His scratchy voice is doing nothing to support his claim.

Lewis sighs. “Can you breathe OK? You seem to be struggling.”

“Really, I’m fine now.” _Absolutely as fine as a person could be, with their new boss tenderly stroking their aching throat._

Eventually Lewis steps back. “I think A & E for you.”

There’s clearly no point protesting, so James falls into step with Lewis and they make their way back to Lewis’ car. James fastens his seatbelt, holding it away from his neck, then tries to clear his throat, though it hurts like hell. “Thank you, sir. I think you just saved my life.” His voice still sounds like some bastard just tried to shake him warmly by the throat. 

Lewis doesn’t look at him. He starts the engine. “Aye, well. It’s only been two months. Be a shame to lose you. I’ve got a lot more wisdom to impart yet.”

“I’m sure you have, sir.”

“And I don’t like people having a go at my sergeant.” He pulls out into the slow-moving traffic. “I won’t have it.”

James turns to look out of the passenger door window. As they pick up speed, he watches the stonework of an old college wall flow past, roughened by years of weathering, honey-toned and warm in the afternoon sun.

Who knew that smiling could hurt your throat so much?


End file.
